With The Light Of A Thousand Stars
by LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou
Summary: Spencer Reid & Emily Prentiss/ - He falls for her the moment they meet - / Dark&Twisty


**Disclamer: I own nothing, everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

**AN: Emily Prentiss &amp; Spencer Reid/dark and twisty**

* * *

**With The Light Of A Thousand Stars**

**.**

**.**

* * *

_._

_She falls for him the moment they meet. __Falls for the warm smile on his angelic face, the curiosity in his eyes and the promise of blue skies and sunshine._

_He's forgiveness and hope and love. A new beginning._

_The light Emily hopes will bring her home again._

_._

* * *

.

The houses to Spencer's left and right are run-down and abandoned, the only sound the steady rhythm of the rain as he hurries down the empty street.

It's October, the last memories of summer finally blown away by a freezing wind. Heavy raindrops falling from the dark night sky, drowning the City of Light.

.

* * *

_._

_"She's alive."_

_The cup of water Spencer holds in his hand hits the floor with a thud._

_"No," he whispers. Shaking his head. "No."_

_" We lied, Spencer," JJ tells him softly and Hotch adds. "The doctors were able to stabilize her. She was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know. She stayed there until she was well enough to travel."_

_"Emily's alive?" Spencer looks back and forth between JJ and Hotch, still shaking his head._

_"But we buried her," he stammers, unable to understand._

_"I'm sorry," JJ whispers and he watches as tears start to fill her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Spencer, I wish I-"_

_"How could you do that?" Spencer interrupts her, his voice loud enough to be heard throughout the building. "How could you do that to me, JJ? You knew, you knew and you didn't-"_

_He's going to throw up. He staggers back, pushing away JJ's hands as she tries to steady him._

_"Why are you telling me now," he whispers hoarsely holding the edge of the nightstand._

_"Doyle found her," Hotch tells him. "She needs help. And so do you, Reid."_

_Spencer laughs. It's dark and cold and bitter._

_"I needed help a long time ago," he spits. "How could you lie to me like that?"_

_"Reid, we just-"_

_"Don't do that, Hotch! Don't talk to me like I'm a child. I'm not!"_

_"Reid, I never-"_

_"Just tell me where she is. Just tell me!"_

_Hotch shakes his head. "You're in no state to help us. You know that. And it's not why we-"_

_"Paris," JJ says. Tears on her cheeks. "She's in Paris."_

_._

* * *

.

He stops in front of the overgrown gate, looks up at the three-story mansion with the damaged roof and the faded paint. This had been a home once, Spencer thinks. Now it's an empty shell.

The gate gives way with a slight push of his hand. Confirming what he already knows.

.

* * *

.

_He tells Hotch after her funeral._

_It's dark, the two of them the only ones left in the office._

_"Did you tell anybody else?" Hotch asks. His face drained of color, his eyes filled with sorrow._

_Spencer looks down at the badge between his trembling fingers._

_"Emily," he answers, his sight blurry with tears. "I told Emily."_

_._

* * *

.

The front door opens with a squeak of the hinges, nearly drowned out by the rain. With shaking hands Spencer puts down the hood of his jacket, slowly steps forward.

It's dark and cold. The air filled with dust and dirt and the echo of death and tragedy.

.

* * *

_._

_He sits in a hospital waiting room, staring at the white wall._

_He counts the seconds, listening to the ticking in his head. He's reached 55045 when JJ comes back with tears in her eyes._

_"I didn't get the chance to say goodbye," he whispers, trying to get past her even though he doesn't know where to go._

_There is nowhere to go._

_JJ says nothing, just pulls him into her arms._

.

* * *

.

It takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. When they do, he spots the footsteps in the dirt on the floor. Left by a pair of heavy boots and a pair of heels. Leading upstairs into the darkness.

He stills, listens. There's no sound but the rain.

.

* * *

_._

_"You're sleeping with her."_

_Spencer looks up at the sound of a voice and finds Clyde Easter leaning in the doorframe of the conference room. An unreadable expression on his face and not for the first time that day Spencer feels jealous._

_It's childish, but he hates him. Hates his smug attitude and his British accent, the leather jacket and the way he stares at Emily's picture on the board. Hates the way he talks about her as if he's known her all his life._

_"Excuse me?" Spencer glares, wishes the Interpol Agent didn't make him feel so insecure._

_"It hurts, doesn't it?" Easter asks. His eyes cold and distant._

_"I don't understand."_

_"Being in love with her," Easter clarifies, a wistful smile on his face. "Being in love with our darling Emily."_

_Spencer feels his cheeks flush in anger. The amused expression on Easter's face doesn't make him feel any better. The truth of his words is painful._

_"Are you speaking from personal experience?"_

_Easter nods, his voice calm and composed. "I do. It's the reason I chose her to go after Doyle. I knew if anyone could break him, it would be her."_

_"She could die," Spencer says matter-of-factly, but Easter just laughs. The knowledge of something Spencer will never accept lingering in his dark blue eyes._

_"You don't know her at all, don't you?"_

.

* * *

.

He finds her in the master bedroom. A dark silhouette at the window.

There's blood on her clothes, blood on the wall and all over the floor. A knife left on the sill, glistens dangerously in the moonlight.

Ian Doyle's body, carelessly draped on the bed. Pale blue eyes staring at the ceiling. An empty shell. Just like the house.

.

* * *

.

_"Does anyone know?"_

_"You," Spencer mutters, before he looks back up from his desk. Forcing himself to meet her gaze._

_"I won't tell anyone," she says._

_"I know," Spencer manages a smile. "They'd just worry," he adds a heartbeat later. "Not that you're not going to worry, but they'll just make me feel like a baby. You know?"_

_"I do."_

_It's brief, but Spencer's sure he spots tears glistening in her eyes and he wonders if they've finally reached the end._

_"How are you?" he asks, even though he knows he won't get the truth. She looks away, down at her hands and back up at him._

_"I'm good."_

_It's a lie and not even a good one. She's not trying anymore. She's already shut him out._

_"You've been picking your fingernails again."_

_"Yeah," she gives him a half-hearted smile. She looks uncomfortable he notices, nervous, as if she's waiting for something._

_"You only do that when you're stressed."_

_She bites her lip, lets go of her hands instantly. "It's just a bad habit.""_

_He nods, once, twice, then takes the folder from his desk and gets up._

_"Are you coming?"_

_"Yeah," Emily says. A sad smile on her pale face. "I'll be there in a minute."_

_Spencer already knows she won't._

.

* * *

.

"Emily," he whispers. His eyes burning with tears against his will. "Emily."

.

* * *

_._

_"Sorry, handsome, I'm gonna have to pass. I'm just gonna hang out with Sergio tonight."_

_"Oh, shoot, I didn't-"_

_"Relax, Reid," Emily adds with a soft laugh, as if she can read his thoughts. "Sergio is my new cat. But-" it gets quiet for a second before she adds: "Thank you."_

_Spencer blinks. Wondering when she'd gotten a cat. "For what?" he asks._

_"For being you," Her voice is warm and familiar and so full of love it makes his chest tight._

_He smiles."Thanks, I don't really know how to be anyone else."_

_"Yeah," she whispers. "That's what I love about you."_

_._

* * *

.

She doesn't move. Doesn't even flinch.

"You shouldn't have come," is all she says. Her voice cold and hard, no emotion at all.

Spencer closes his eyes.

"You shouldn't have left either."

.

* * *

_._

_"I want you to promise me something," Emily tells him. Her fingers brush away the hair from his forehead._

_They're in the small kitchenette of the BAU jet, the curtain closed. The others fast asleep on their seats._

_"Anything," Spencer breathes. Bending forward, his lips brushing against her neck, his hands on her waist pulling her closer._

_"Whatever happens," she whispers, her fingers tugging softly at his hair and making him tremble in anticipation._

_"I want you to remember that I love you."_

_Spencer stops, pulls back immediately. "Emily, what-" he starts, already worried. But Emily just smiles._

_"Promise me," she mutters. Her eyes bright. "Just promise me, Spencer."_

_._

* * *

.

"I had no choice," she tells him. "I did what I had to do, to protect you."

Spencer just shakes his head. Angry and tired and sad.

"That's not true, Emily. And you know it. I could have helped you. We could have helped you. There was no need to go through this alone."

"It was my fight, Spencer. Not yours."

.

* * *

_._

_"Are you seeing someone?" JJ asks and Spencer feels panic settle in the pit of his stomach._

_"Why would you think something like that?" he asks, staring back at the blonde next to his desk._

_JJ smiles. "You've changed."_

_"How?" Spencer asks, alarmed and slightly confused._

_"No need to worry," JJ tells him with a reassuring look. "All I'm saying is that it suits you. Or should I say, she does?"_

_She gives him a wink and Spencer is left looking after her, too stunned to say anything, as she disappears in the direction of her office._

_"I think she knows."_

_Spencer is startled by a voice behind him. It's Emily sitting on the edge of his desk, with a cup of coffee in her hands._

_"Who?" Spencer frowns, suddenly distracted by the sight of her. She's wearing red again. A blouse with tiny buttons, a blouse that literally screams at him to tear it open. He wonders what she might wear-_

_Emily's chuckle makes him blink. When he meets her gaze he feels himself blush, but Emily just smiles._

_"It doesn't matter," she tells him, reaching for his hand. "It doesn't matter."_

_._

* * *

.

Spencer laughs.

"Emily Prentiss," he whispers. "Always the martyr."

.

* * *

_._

_"Mich Rawson, huh?"_

_Emily smirks._

_"Jealous?"_

_Spencer feels his cheeks flush._

_"I- no. I mean- I-" he's still searching for something to say, when she takes his hand and gestures at him to follow her._

_"Where are we going?" he asks her, glancing back at the team to make sure no one is looking. "Emily, the others will-"_

_He's silenced by a kiss. Her soft lips on his, her fingers burried in his thick hair while they stumble through the door and into the night._

_"There's no need to be jealous," Emily breathes between kisses. Pushing him back against the wall of the building. "I only want you."_

_._

* * *

.

"Don't be so cynical," she answers hoarsely. Still not turning around to face him.

"He would have killed you without even blinking. A long and painful death, because he knew that-" she stops midsentence and Spencer feels the anger boil in his veins.

"That what, Emily?" he asks. His voice getting louder. "Say it, just say it!"

It's silent for a long time. When she finally answers, her voice is barely above a whisper.

"That I love you."

.

* * *

.

_"So that's a Sin and Win weekend in Atlantic City?"_

_Emily gives him a smile, looking all smug and self-assured. "We did win, didn't we?"_

_"Only because you cheated," Spencer teases, slowly drawing circles on her skin. She's lying next to him in the king sized bed, the white sheets tangled between their naked bodies. Clothes strewn all over the floor. They probably left a piece or two in the elevator._

_"I didn't," Emily smirks. "I just got lucky."_

_"No, you cheated. I just don't know how."_

_"That's because I didn't." He watches her bend toward him, her lips finding his. Warm and soft, the taste of bourbon still on her tongue._

_"We're lucky we didn't get kicked out," he breathes against her mouth. His fingers playing with a strand of her dark hair._

_"But it would have been pretty funny if Morgan had to bail us out of prison."_

_Spencer laughs. "You're unbelievable, you know that, right?"_

_Later, when he's on the verge of falling asleep he hears her whisper against his ear:_

_"I love you, Spencer. Don't you ever forget that."_

_._

* * *

.

"Come home with me. It's over."

Emily shakes her head.

"It's never really over, Spencer."

.

* * *

_._

_It's the middle of the night when the ringing of his phone makes him startle in his sleep._

_He sits up on his couch, rubbing his eyes. It takes him a while to realize it's his phone ringing._

_"Hello," he mumbles. The phone pressed against his ear. The first thing he hears is music, the next Emily's voice._

_"Hey Spencer, sorry for waking you up but I need to ask you something."_

_"Emily?" He sits up straight, tries to get a look at his watch._

_"Yeah, it's me. You know I was wondering- what's this thing when you can't stop counting?"_

_"Excuse me?"_

_"You know, the thing where you can't stop counting."_

_"You mean a compulsion disorder?"_

_"Do I?"_

_Spencer frowns._

_"Are you drunk, Emily?"_

_Instead of an actual answer she starts to laugh._

_"Where are you?" he asks. Fully awake now. "Are you at a bar? Do you need someone to pick you up?"_

_She laughs again._

_"Why? Do you want to take me home, Spencer?"_

_"What? No, I mean-" Spencer shakes his head. Feels himself blush. "I just- are you alright?"_

_"No," she tells him. "No I'm not. But I will be."_

_Before he has the time to say something else she's already hung up._

_Ten minutes later. he's dressed, ready to head out and look for her. But when he opens his door she's standing there. Snowflakes glistening in her dark hair, melting on her eye lashes. Unshed tears burning in her eyes. The smell of bourbon on her breath._

_"Emily-" he's cut off when her lips crash against his._

_._

* * *

.

"He's dead. He can't harm any of us. Not anymore."

"It's not that easy, Spencer. Don't you see," and with that she spins around. Her dark eyes burning with anger and despair. Silver trails of tears on her pale cheeks, glistening in the moonlight. Blood dripping from her fingertips as she gestures towards Ian Doyle's body.

"This is what I do. It's what I've always done. I made a deal with the devil years ago. There is no going back for me."

.

* * *

_._

_"It's me."_

_Wide-eyed Spencer watches as Cyrus grabs Emily by her hair and drags her further and further away. Horror keeps rushing through his veins while he listens to her silent cries in the distance. He's never felt more guilty in his life._

_"It's been my decision and I would do it again," she tells him later. Her eyes dark and tired, but honest._

_Spencer stares. Thinks that of course she would._

_It doesn't make him feel any better._

_He nods, gives her a smile. Looks back down at his book. Tries to shake the feeling that he's missing something important._

_._

* * *

.

"There always is," Spencer tells her. "We'll figure it out."

He watches her shake her head again. This time more determined. "I can't."

She turns away slightly, her pale face looking almost translucent in the moonlight. Like the ghost she has become.

"It was a sunny day," he tells her without thinking. "The day of your funeral. The sun was shining and I remember carrying your coffin along with the others and I couldn't stop thinking that it should be raining. That it should be dark. The sun on my face never felt more wrong."

He takes a step forward and then another, watches her close her eyes.

"I came back to your grave," he adds. "Day after day after day. I sat there for hours, to be close to you. Staring at the FBI motto on your tombstone. Wondering if it ever meant something to you."

He's close enough to reach for her face. Her skin ice cold when his fingers brush against her cheek.

"_Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity," _he whispers. "Did it ever mean something to you, Emily?"

"No, it didn't." Her voice is filled with pain and regret, her dark eyes flashing open to return his gaze. "But you, Spencer, you do."

.

* * *

_._

_"Are you considering it?"_

_Spencer looks up. "Considering what?"_

_"Having baby geniuses one day," Emily answers with a smile, sunlight kissing her face. She looks stunning. So beautiful, Spencer has to remind himself not to stare at her._

_He blinks, looks back down at the folder on the table. The image of a little boy with tousled hair and Emily's dark eyes coming to life against his will._

_He'd thought about it. Of course. But having kids was out of the question. At least for him._

_He's just about to say it out loud when the phone rings and he's saved by Garcia telling them what she found out._

_._

* * *

.

"I thought you were dead," he breathes. Tears burn in his eyes. The feeling of her skin against his a reminder of what he lost.

He watches as she lowers her head. A strand of her dark hair brushing against his finger.

"Sometimes, I wish I was."

.

* * *

.

_When he finds her sitting at her desk at six thirty in the morning, wearing the clothes she'd worn the day before, he knows something must be horribly wrong._

_She's holding the yearbook picture Garcia found in her hands, staring at her seventeen year-old self with so much confusion on her face that it makes him uneasy._

_"You really don't remember?" he asks softly, pressing his messenger bag against his chest._

_"No," she starts. Shaking her head. "I don't." Her voice is hoarse and when she looks up to meet his gaze, he spots dark circles under her eyes. Her face even paler than usual. She opens her mouth to say something else, but stops. He watches as she looks back at the picture._

_"Maybe it's better that way," Spencer tries. "Maybe-"_

_"You're right."_

_Emily interrupts him suddenly and Spencer watches startled as she rips the picture in pieces._

_"Sometimes it's better not to know."_

_She gives him a smile, brushing her dark hair out of her face. Already on her feet._

_"I'm going to make coffee."_

_Spencer nods, watches as she disappears in the direction of the kitchenette._

_Wondering what just happened._

.

* * *

.

"Why would you even say something like that?" Spencer frowns. The need to grab her and shake her unbearable.

"You wouldn't understand," she says. Her face as crestfallen as his own.

.

* * *

.

_"Who taught you to play?"_

_Emily shrugs. "I don't really remember."_

_It's a sunny day and they're sitting across from each other in the park, playing chess. Emily about to beat him. Again._

_"You don't remember?" Spencer frowns, not looking up from the board._

_"Not everyone has an eidetic memory, Spencer."_

_"True," he says. "But I would love to know the person who taught you how to play like this," he gestures at the game, feeling helpless. "I'm about to lose."_

_"You are," Emily laughs. Her eyes sparkling in the light, her cheeks flushed. "Again."_

_"I'll figure it out," he says. Looking back down at the game. "One day I'll win."_

_Emily smiles. "You can keep trying," she says. Her fingertips briefly brushing against his on the stone table._

_"I will," he answers. Looking up to meet her gaze, before he allows his fingers to intertwine with hers._

.

* * *

.

"You would have left anyway, wouldn't you?" Spencer mutters. It's not really a question. He already knows the answer. "Without Doyle," he clarifies. "Sooner or later you would have left anyway, wouldn't you?"

.

* * *

.

_"Oh, really? Oh, in the months that you've known me, you've never seen me act this way?"_

_Spencer has no idea what makes him lash out at her of all people, but once he starts he can't stop the words. His hands are shaking, his eyes burning with anger._

_"No offense, Emily, but you don't really know what you're talking about, do you?"_

_She looks at him wide eyed, surprised and worried and he can't stand her presence a second longer. He pushes past her, leaves her standing there in front of the shelter while he hurries down the street._

_She knows, he realizes. Sweat beading on his forehead. His heart hammering in his chest. She knows._

_Unlike everyone else on the team, Emily isn't afraid of fighting him. Isn't afraid of telling him he needs help straight to his face. He wonders why she keeps trying, wonders why she even bothers. Wonders why she thinks he's worth saving. He doesn't dare to ask her._

_But not matter how vicious he acts, he can't push her away. He secretly admires her for standing her ground without blinking._

_Weeks later, he finds himself sitting next to her in front of a coffee shop._

_"You saved my life," he tells her. "If it hadn't been for your persistence-"_

_He stops. Unable to finish his sentence. They both know what would have happened._

_Emily gives him a smile, a smile that makes his heart flutter and his cheeks flush._

_"Anytime," she whispers, her hand reaching for his. "For you, anytime."_

.

* * *

.

"Maybe," she tells him. "Maybe, I would have."

Spencer shakes his head. "You're a liar, Emily."

She laughs and he watches her eyes turn to stone. Her voice fills with bitterness when she says:

"So are you, Spencer. So are you."

.

* * *

.

_There's a medical report stuffed away in the back pocket of his pants and a bottle of pills at the bottom of his messenger bag, his hair tousled and wet from the rain when he rushes into the conference room. Late for work the first time ever._

_He mumbles an apology, tries his best to ignore the quizzical looks from around the table._

_Morgan asks him if he started dating, an amused grin on his face. Elle seems worried and Gideon gives him a look Spencer can't read. Hotch only tells him to sit down so JJ can carry on with the briefing._

_Spencer gives a slight nod, already looking at the crime scene photos laid out on the table._

_Telling himself that if he keeps taking his pills, everything will be all right. Nobody needs to know the truth._

_._

* * *

.

"You're just like me," Emily whispers. Her hands softly cupping his face between her hands. "And you've been just as good at hiding."

.

* * *

.

_Spencer is sitting in an office. His eyes fixed on the nametag on the desk in front of him._

_"Schizophrenia is a treatable disease, Dr. Reid. You know that," the middle aged man behind the desk tells him. His white coat makes Spencer's eyes hurt._

_"We just need to find a medication that will work for you. Something to get the hallucinations under control. Something for the headache and of course you need to make some changes in your life, but-"_

_It sounds simple. But Spencer knows it isn't._

_He feels like laughing. And crying. And screaming. But he does none of it._

.

* * *

.

When her lips meet his, they're warm and gentle, just like he remembers and Spencer gives in without thinking. Allows his eyes to fall shut.

At first it's innocent, nothing more but a friendly kiss. But before he really knows what he's doing, he has her pushed back against the window. His hands in her dark hair, his fingers tugging at the strands and kissing her for all she's worth. This is goodbye.

He pulls her closer and closer, his fingers on her back and on her waist and in her hair again. There are tears on his cheeks, mixing with hers.

It's sweet and tender, bitter and rough. Poison and blood and in seconds he's on fire. Burning, burning until there's nothing left. Nothing but ashes and the memory of a long lost, falling star.

_Emily. My sweet, sweet, Emily._

He pulls away first, his sight blurry with tears when he looks at her one last time. Unable to say the words out loud.

"Goodbye Spencer," she whispers. Her fingers brushing against the back of his hand, leaving a touch of scarlet on her way out.

.

* * *

_._

_It starts with a headache._

_With the image of a woman with dark hair and dark eyes, whispering into his ear._

_"You're mine, Spencer. You're mine."_

_._

* * *

.

He knows he needs to make the call, knows he should have done it hours ago. But he knows he won't. Not until he's erased every trace of Emily's presence in the room. Not until he's made sure no one will ever know.

He watches her step out on the street with her hands in the pockets of her coat. Her dark hair dancing in the wind. Rain still pouring down from above and Spencer wonders if heaven is sharing his grief.

They lost an angel after all.

.

* * *

_._

_He falls for her the moment they meet. Falls for the teasing smile, the fire burning in her eyes and the promise of ashes and blood._

_She's darkness and destruction, death and tragedy. The devil's bride._

_One of the fallen, sent from the pits of hell to bring him home._

_._

* * *

.

He knows he'll meet her again. Maybe not in this life. But in another.

.

* * *

**.**

**.**

* * *

**Disclamer: I own nothing, Everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

**AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And of course a big thank you goes to my wonderful beta reader clairebare!**


End file.
